


Coffee Kiosk

by jekisawrites



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/M, but they don't have important roles, the other delinquents are mentioned, this was just an excuse to write another coffee shop au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-04
Updated: 2016-05-04
Packaged: 2018-06-06 10:07:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6749248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jekisawrites/pseuds/jekisawrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bellamy is a security guard for the hospital; Clarke is a barista at the coffee kiosk. Harry Potter and Marvel discussions ensue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Coffee Kiosk

**Author's Note:**

> this was the first bellarke fic I wrote, but I'm just now getting around to posting it. oops.

**i.**  
It happens on a Wednesday, which just so happens to be Clarke’s least favorite day of the week. Wednesdays are her earliest and longest day class wise, and she barely has time to pee between class and her closing shift at the coffee kiosk in the hospital. On those days, she lives off of muffins and scones, which isn’t entirely nutritious, but she manages not to have hunger migraines so that’s something. The only bright side of having such a long day is that Wednesdays were some of the few days she was able to see Lincoln. Granted, they’re both working (he was a security guard for the hospital, she a lonely barista), and it was only for a half hour while she closed and while he walked her back to her car, but. She’s still able to see one of her best friends and that counts towards something.  
  
So you can imagine her shock – and extreme disappointment – when Lincoln doesn’t show up. She serves her last customer of the night, hanging the We Are Closed sign on the register, and removing everything from the display case and wiping down the counters. She figures he got caught up with Mrs. Calhoun, the elderly lady that works nearly every shift at the gift shop. Still, she places his large black southern blueberry roast on the counter assuming he would eventually show up.  
  
But then those first few minutes turn into fifteen minutes and then thirty and then forty-five, and when she was doing the final touches before she could clock out and go home and his coffee was still waiting for him on the counter, she knows he wasn’t coming. She’s about to grab her phone from the cabinet where she kept it and her wallet, when a young security guard ambled up and glanced curiously at the lone cup of coffee on the counter.  
  
He looks around, eyes landing on Clarke before quickly darting elsewhere. They land on Lincoln’s cup, and he nods at it, “Is this mine?”  
  
She can’t help but send a glare his way, “Not unless you’re Lincoln, which you’re not, so.”  
  
“Lincoln isn’t here.”  
  
Clarke glances around dramatically, “Really? I had no idea.”  
  
“Listen, I’m only here because Lincoln told me I had to escort the small, bossy blonde back to her car after she got off work. Had I realized you were snooty and bossy, I would’ve declined.”  
  
“I’m not small, snooty, or bossy.” She tries to glare even harder, but she’s pretty sure she just looks constipated. “Where’s Lincoln?”  
  
His face soured even more at that. He scratched the back of his neck seemingly debating whether or not to tell her the truth.  
  
After a pregnant pause, “He’s on a date with my little sister.”  
  
She laughs at that, tossing the last dirty rag in the bucket to be washed tomorrow, and swiping her card to clock out.  
  
“So, is this coffee mine?”  
  
“Only if you like black southern pecan coffee.”  
  
He shrugs, “I prefer a dry cappuccino, but I’m not picky.”  
  
She rolls her eyes, but waits for him when she walks out from behind her kiosk.  
  
They walk in silence for the most part, the only sound being him sipping his coffee every few steps. But after a while, Clarke can’t stay quiet.  
  
“Lincoln is being ridiculous, I hope you know. I am perfectly capable of walking myself to my car without the help of anyone else.”  
  
Clarke doesn’t miss the way he glances at her from the corner of his eye, or the way his lips lift just the smallest amount to smirk, “I’m sure you are.”  
  
“Then why are you still walking me to my car? You don’t have to go the entire way with me.”  
  
“After I gave Lincoln the talk, he asked me to walk you to your car since he wouldn’t be able to. If I expect him to take my threats seriously, I should probably take his seriously as well.”  
  
She stops walking then, and it took him a few steps to realize she was no longer walking beside him. He turn, eyebrows raised and expecting an explanation.  
  
“Threats? What did you guys have? Some kind of brofrest?”  
  
“Big brothers take their rolls very seriously.”  
  
“Lincoln isn’t my brother.”  
  
He huffs, getting impatient with their conversation. “I didn’t ask for your family tree, Princess. All I know is that he wants me to make sure you get to your car safely tonight, which I totally understand. This town is full of crazies and I would do the same thing with Octavia.”  
  
She squints at him before quickly walking to her car again. It only takes him a few strides to catch up with her.  
  
“What’s your name anyway?”  
  
“Bellamy.”  
  
“Well Bellamy, it was nice to meet you. But you’re free to go now. You’ve managed to safely deliver me to my car despite the millions of dangers lurking in the parking garage tower.”  
  
Bellamy smirks at her sarcasm, but doesn’t head back towards his wing of the hospital until she’s safely inside her car with the doors locked.  
  
Clarke might sit in her car a little longer than necessary as she watches him walk away.  
  
  


**ii.**  
The second time it happens is during Thanksgiving break, and this time she’s expecting it. So instead of putting aside a large southern blueberry roast, Clarke quickly makes a dry cappuccino before she breaks down and cleans the espresso machine. Bellamy shows up earlier than he did the last time. Silently appearing at the edge of the kiosk only twenty minutes after she closes, rather than forty.  
  
He looks around again before smirking and, “Is this mine?”  
  
“One large dry cappuccino for the over protective nerd.” Clarke offers dryly as she unscrews the filters and runs the puro caff through the machine.  
  
“So,” Clarke glances over at him and saw him leaning against the counter with his feet crossed over one another, “Last night was fun.”  
  
Somehow, and Clarke is still a little confused on how exactly, Bellamy wiggled his way into the hearts of hers and Lincoln’s friends and is now part of their weekly movie nights. She doesn’t mind, really. It’s fun to see him fuss over Octavia and even Miller and Monty. Raven doesn’t even give him a chance to mother her, and Wells doesn’t need anyone to mother over him. He’s as put together as anyone Clarke knows. She nearly laughed the first time it happened because she never would have guessed that the grouchy security guard would also be such a parent in a social group. But half of that might be because, other than Lincoln, he’s the oldest.  
  
“Which part was fun, exactly? The part where Jasper made a bet on how long it would take for Miller and Monty to end up together? Or what about the part where Monty got so embarrassed he dropped the casserole dish and it shattered all over my apartment floor? Or are you talking about your completely idiotic opinions?”  
  
He rolls his eyes, but really, he should’ve known that Clarke still hasn’t let that go yet. “I just don’t understand why you would decide to go against Cap.”  
  
“Maybe because he is purposely breaking the law? Tony totally is the way to go on this one.”  
  
Bellamy laughs, but it lacks the humor, “Oh, really?”  
  
Clarke drops the screwdriver and stops the puro caff cycle before starting the next one. “Yes, really.”  
  
“So you’re telling me that if Wells—“  
  
“That’s not fair!”  
  
“—broke some law and the entire nation was going after him, you wouldn’t try to save him?”  
  
“That’s totally different and you know it, Blake.”  
  
“Is it, though?”  
  
She crosses her arms, forgetting about the espresso machine and the puro caff and the endless list of things she needed to finish before she could actually clock out and leave, “Yes! Because Wells would never do anything so horrific that the entire government would want him dead!”  
  
“And Bucky would never have done that either, but he wasn’t in his own control!”  
  
“Then Steve should trust the government to give Bucky a just trial and let it go through the motions.”  
  
Bellamy throws his hands up, and Clarke tunes him out while he rants on and on about the MCU universe and Captain America in all of his glory.  
  
Eventually, she remembers the espresso machine and ends the cycle, dumping the portafilter in the sink with a clang!  
  
“The movie isn’t even out, yet, Bell. We don’t even know what happens.”  
  
“If you read the comics, you would know.”  
  
Clarke ignores him and starts closing again, and eventually still keeps conversation with Bellamy. He ends up helping a little, sweeping and mopping while she does the more important and difficult chores of closing. By the time they finish up, it’s well past her average clocking out time and they somehow end up on the topic of which Hogwarts House each of the Avengers would be in.  
  
On the walk to her car, they both agree that Clint would be in Gryffindor, Nat would undoubtedly be Slytherin, and they came to the agreement that Hufflepuff would be the house best fitted for Bruce. But, of course, they couldn’t agree on which house Tony Stark belonged to.  
  
Clarke’s unlocking her car, throwing her backpack in the trunk when she turns back to Bellamy. “I still say Tony belongs in Gryffindor.”  
  
“And I still say that he would go to Ravenclaw.”  
  
Clarke crosses her arms, trying and failing to control the smile threatening to appear. “Well, I suppose we’ve reached an impasse.”  
  
Bellamy smirked, “I suppose so, Princess.”  
  
She rolls her eyes but starts getting in her car. “What’re you doing Thursday?”  
  
Thursday was Thanksgiving, and usually Clarke would spend the holiday with Lincoln or Wells. But Lincoln is visiting Oregon with Octavia and his family, and Wells is going with Raven to visit her mom. She could take the train to New York to see her own mother, but that didn’t seem like the best option.  
  
“Watching It’s The Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown and ordering take out.”  
  
“Well, I make a mean turkey stuffing if you want to come over instead. I’m sure we can still watch The Great Pumpkin.”  
  
Bellamy smiles, and Clarke is a little taken aback when she feels herself start to blush at the sight. “I might take you up on that offer. Text me?”  
  
“Of course. But, just a warning, we have to watch the parade before we watch and Charlie Brown.”  
  
He laughs at that, “Okay, whatever you say. Now go home. You look exhausted.”  
  
She’s going to say he looked just as exhausted as she did, but she decides against it, instead simply nodding and sliding the rest of the way into her car.  
  
“See you later, Bell.”  
  
  


**iii.**  
  
The third time it happens, it honestly catches Clarke off guard because she knows Lincoln is working, but it isn’t him who shows up to walk her safely to her car. She’s halfway through with Lincoln’s coffee when she sees a Bellamy walking her way instead. She’s confused, and curious, but she dumps the coffee out and quickly starts to make Bellamy his cappuccino instead.  
  
She waits until she’s finished steaming the milk (Bellamy likes it extra hot, so she tries to always steam his to 160 instead of the usual 140) to say something.  
  
“Where’s Lincoln?”  
  
Bellamy hesitates, taking time to scratch the back of his neck before answering. “Told him I’d walk you out tonight. Haven’t seen you in a while.”  
  
It was true. It’s been nearly three weeks since Thanksgiving, and she hasn’t seen him since. Truth was, she was starting to miss him, not that she would ever admit that to anyone.  
  
“Yeah, where’ve you been?” She smiles as she wipes down the display case. “You’ve been bailing on our game nights. Is your old age getting to you?”  
  
He glares at her, but it was harmless and more endearing than threatening. “No. I actually had a few dates.”  
  
And, oh. Clarke didn’t want to look into what the twist of her gut meant when she heard that.  
  
“That’s great!” She said instead.  
  
“Eh, it started and ended all very quickly. It seems like I’m meant to be a bachelor for life.”  
  
Clarke tried to smile, “I’m sure you’ll find someone who will be willing to put up with your idiocy eventually.”  
  
He makes a noise, a half laugh and half snort, “I’m pretty sure that the only people who are willing to do that are you and O.”  
  
They share a glance at that. Clarke tries not to notice how much she’s blushing at that, and then she’s trying not to notice how he’s blushing, too. She hurriedly starts to close again, doing her best to ignore the way he watches her as she does so. They stay mostly quiet after that, even during their walk to her car. And then they’re at her car, and before she has the chance to overthink things, she all but tackles him in a hug. She only relaxes once his arms wrap around her, and she rests her forehead in the crook of his neck, breathing him in for just a moment before twisting away and fumbling into her car.  
  
She doesn’t wait and watch him walk away this time, but he does. She sees him in her rearview mirror as she drives away, standing there until there’s nothing left to see.  
  
  


**iv.**  
  
The fourth time it happens, it’s the day after New Year’s and, consequently, Octavia’s party, and Clarke is praying to every god she can remember that he doesn’t show up. Unfortunately for her, the gods seemed to have ignored all of her requests because she spots him walking to the kiosk as she hangs the We Are Closed sign on the register. She has half a mind to ignore him completely, just pretend he doesn’t exist. But he walks up and is smiling, and she curses all the gods she can think of because how dare they allow a human to have such a beautiful smile.  
  
“Hey, Clarke.”  
  
And he has the audacity to wave, causing Clarke to bring her focus on his fingers, fingers that had done unspeakable things to her the night before.  
  
She only notices that he isn’t in his guard uniform when he leans against the counter and his scarf and jacket fall open.  
  
She squints at him, curious and suspecting, “What’re you doing here?”  
  
He shruggs, “Just wanted to make sure you survived your hangover.”  
  
Clarke’s still squinting at him, and honestly Bellamy probably thinks she’s gone half blind. But Clarke can’t figure him out. Last night he told her that what happened between them in the coat closet – the coat closest! how very cliché of them – should stay between them. And she agreed, of course she did because she’s an idiot, and quickly resituated her dress before walking out like nothing happened. She was almost positive, and had spent an entire night stressing over how what happened between them would affect their friendship.  
  
But here Bellamy is, leaning against her counter on a night he had off, smiling and acting as if all is right in the world. She simply didn’t understand.  
  
“I managed.”  
  
He smiles again, “I can see that.”  
  
She decides then that she’s going to ignore him the rest of the time she closes. And she does just that, except for when she makes him his dry cappuccino and when he offers to sweep and mop for her and to break down the empty boxes and to take out the trash for her.  
  
They close in record time, almost cutting it in half. The really don’t talk much during it, but he keeps smiling at her. And, well, if this is how last night changes their friendship, then she definitely doesn’t mind.  
  
She offers to share her tips with him, but he just shrugs her offer off.  
  
“But, there is another way you can repay my generosity from tonight.”  
  
They’re in the elevator then, each against their own wall. She raises her eyebrows, “Oh?”  
  
“The old drive in is showing Batman Forever in about a half hour. Buy me a coke icee and we’ll call it even.”  
  
The elevator doors open, but neither of them move. “Like, just the two of us?”  
  
He laughs at that, and decides to take matter into his own hands and walk off the elevator despite Clarke being glued where she stood.  
  
“Yeah, just the two of us.”  
  
She finally manages to push herself off the elevator wall and stumble after him, “Like a date?”  
  
At this, Bellamy flushes, “Well, yeah.”  
  
She’s back to squinting at him, and they’re both standing in the middle of the walk way, “I thought that… You said it was best to just keep it between the two of us?”  
  
He huffs, sounding annoyed. Clarke has half a mind to storm away right then because how dare he be annoyed with her.  
  
“I was a little drunk last night.”  
  
She cocks an eyebrow. “I could tell.”  
  
“I… Listen. I say stupid stuff every day. You tell me that regularly. That was just one of many stupid things I said yesterday.”  
  
He takes a few steps closer to her, taking her hand in his. “And, in case I didn’t make it very clear last night, I really like you.”  
  
And now Clarke was the one blushing, and Bellamy was staring at her, and.  
  
“You’re an absolute idiot.” She breathes out before leaning up to kiss his cheek. “Now lets get going or else we’re going to miss this movie.”


End file.
